


Harry Hart's Annual Fucking Tea Party

by ViolyntFemme



Series: Harry Hart's Annual Fucking Tea Parties [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: M/M, all the snark, don't touch the petit fours, eggsy got out of this one, flower arranging taken to an absurd level, harry and merlin being their usual asshole selves, ms. bennett can't keep her hands to her fucking self, over use of the word fuck because it's me, pinky waving tea drinking, still no sex AGAIN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:29:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolyntFemme/pseuds/ViolyntFemme
Summary: “Why am I here?” Merlin asks.“Because I needed a chaperone,” Harry replies. He still hasn’t turned around, fussing with a flower that Merlin swears is still in the same fucking position that it was in five fucking minutes ago.“A chaperone? In your own house?”“Yes. The women of the neighborhood, and some of the men, mind you, find me irresistible…”“Must be their first time meeting you up close.”





	Harry Hart's Annual Fucking Tea Party

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a little exercise to get my writing mojo back since I haven't written anything since before my cross-country move (again). A little dialogue, I thought, that's what I'll write. Then these two insufferable assholes wouldn't shut the hell up and this is where we are. How do I roll my eyes in text based emojis?

Harry adjusts the floral centerpiece on the table for the fortieth time while Merlin sighs and tugs at the tight collar of his shirt.

“Why am I here?” Merlin asks.

“Because I needed a chaperone,” Harry replies. He still hasn’t turned around, fussing with a flower that Merlin swears is still in the _same fucking position_ that it was in _five fucking minutes_ ago.

“A chaperone? In your own house?” 

“Yes. The women of the neighborhood, and some of the men, mind you, find me irresistible…”

“Must be their first time meeting you up close.”

Harry glares over his shoulder. “As I was _saying_, they've become enamored with me and if they think I’m single, they’ll descend…

“Like flies on shit?”

“Bloody fucking hell. I can’t even finish a sentence with you. When did your become so uncouth?”

“Spending time with you brings out the best in me.” Merlin rattles the door to the liquor cabinet. “Why in the fuck is this locked, Harry?”

“No drinking before the party. Again, uncouth, Hamish.”

“First, don’t call me that unless you want that poor flower you’ve been molesting for the past half hour shoved up your arse. Sideways. Second, are you serious? Are _you_, of all the people in the world, being serious? When have you ever made it through the day without a drink?”

“I’m sure I spent my childhood years sober, but then again I was never quite sure what Cook put in my tea.”

“‘Cook,’” Merlin mutters.

“Pardon?” Harry says, finishing the flowers and heading to the kitchen. The flowers which look the same as they did when Merlin walked in, but more dejected. Or maybe that was himself. It was probably both.

Merlin follows because if he doesn’t he’s going to use the small explosive device he has hidden in the heel of his shoe to blast the liquor cabinet open even if that would most likely break all the bottles.

It would certainly make him feel better.

“I cannot believe you’re making us deal with this sober, Harry.”

“Speak for yourself. I was wise enough to, as Eggsy says, _pre-game it_, I believe. I had a few drinks before you arrived and I may have indulged in that little bag of weed Eggsy thinks I don’t know he hides behind the loose molding in the guest bath. It’s not my fault you didn’t have the foresight to do the same.”

“I didn’t have the foresight because I didn’t think my oldest and dearest friend would make me go through this shit show without a few drinks.”

“This is not a _shit show_. This is my annual tea party. It’s one of the most anticipated event of the whole block.”

“Oh, sure. Harry Hart’s Annual Fucking Tea Party is right up there with the Met Gala. I’m surprised you can keep the hordes away.”

“You’re just cross because you’re sober.”

“Damn right I’m cross.”

Merlin figures if he can’t drink, he’ll at least eat. He reaches for one of the small cakes on the plate in front of him and almost snags one before a wooden spoon comes down on his knuckles.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Harry,” he yells while waving his hurt hand in the air.

“Do not,” Harry says, pointing his spoon at him, “touch my _petit fours.” _And then he smacks him again.

“I will kill you here in this kitchen. Right here, Harry, with my own fucking two hands.”

“I invite you to try.”

“Do you treat Eggsy like this?”

“Of course not. He is a joy and a treasure, and he’s smart enough to stay away from the fucking food.”

“Why isn’t he here? Why do I have to do this?” Merlin (_does not)_ whine.

“Because someone who shall remain nameless sent him out on an absurd reconnaissance mission two days ago.”

“Like I remember when your goddamn tea party is.”

Harry winks at him. “I think you will now.”

The doorbell rings. “Excellent,” Harry says and claps his hands together once. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Merlin eyes the liquor cabinet again and then steals one of the fucking _petit fours_. Harry can stuff it.

—————

An hour later the party is in full swing. Party being a term Merlin uses very loosely.

Very.

Fucking.

Loosely.

Merlin remembers parties having an ample amount of liquor, half-naked men, half-naked women, and at least one of them, or more depending on the party, wrapped around him like an octopus.

Suckers and all.

That was in his twenties, and maybe a little in his thirties — a man had to blow off steam after spending all day saving the arsehole that was across the room, gossiping like an old maid — but in your fifties parties mean watching old women attempt to grope Harry while said man gives him the stink eye for not defending his virtue. And sipping fucking tea out of a damn tiny fucking tea cup instead of a mug the way God intended, without any whiskey in it, also as God intended.

That’s what Harry gets for making Merlin deal with this _sober_. Merlin taps his glasses, running a direct feed into Eggsy’s glasses. If he has to deal with this, so does Eggsy. Now Eggsy’s pleading for a mission a week earlier, with a very specific time line, makes much more sense, though he won’t tell Harry that. He likes Eggsy too much, which to Merlin, that means he doesn’t actively hate him.

_“Merlin, what can I do for you?”_ Eggsy says over the open line. _“Oh god, he roped you into this._ _Better you than me, mate. Last year I thought I was gonna to kill Ms. Bennett.”_

“Who’s Ms. Bennett?”

“Hello there, I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before,” a voice says as a hand pets his arm.

_“That’s Ms. Bennett. I’d recognize that sex starved, ugly, condescending old cunt’s voice anywhere. Please leave your feed because I have got to see this.”_

“Good afternoon, Ms…”

“Bennett, but you can call me Gertrude, or if you like, Gertie. All my friends do, and I would most certainly like to be _your_ friend.”

_“Every single Christmas and birthday have all come at once,”_ Eggsy crows. _“Literally, every single one. And you can’t say anything back to me either. Oh god, I am dying.”_

“You will be.”

“What was that dear?”

“Nothing Ms. Bennett. A pleasure I’m sure.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine but you still haven’t told me your name,” she says.

“Hamish, madam.”

“My, what a handsome young man you are.”

_“Only a bint that old could call _you_ young.”_

Merlin is going to kill the lad, right after he kills Harry for making him be here. It’s a blessing, a mercy. They’ll go together and thank him in the hereafter.

Harry slowly steers himself, and the crowd he has been holding court over, closer to Merlin.

“Has Harry traded in that young thug that was here last year?”

_“She fucking what?”_

“Ah, met Eggsy then?”

“Yes, he was here last year, hanging on to our handsome Harry like the obvious gold digger he was, and _threatening _me.”

“How did he do that?”

_“I fucking didn’t — remind me to tell you about last year and the bloody garden — but I sure as fuck will now.”_

“I can’t remember, but I’m sure he did, common like that. Not our sort.”

Merlin is half tempted to tell her about his time as a poor scrap of a boy on the streets in Glasgow and come to Eggsy’s defense, but then he remembers he doesn’t like the lad as much as he thought he did five minutes ago.

“Eggsy is an acquired taste.”

“One I never hope to acquire, I’m sure.”

_“She’s gonna acquire the taste of the back of my fucking hand.”_

“So, tell me, are you Harry’s new man?” she asks.

He feels it. He feels it coming and he is powerless to stop it. Him, the man who can hack any system in the world, including MI6 — just to fuck with Q of course — who can build a weapon out of two strings and a piece of gum. He cannot stop _this_.

A hand comes around and grabs and a handful of his arse. A full grab, too. Not a pinch. Not a grope. But a full grab of his arse so hard that he can feel his cheeks part. He feels a blossom of pain on his left arse cheek.

Harry hides a guffaw by taking a delicate sip of his tea. With his pinky in the air, the fucking toff. A pinky he wiggles at Merlin as a jaunty hello.

Merlin definitely made the right choice in deciding to murder Harry first. He deserves it. And after he’s dead, Merlin will dig him up, dress him in off the rack clothes, _polyester blend_ off the rack clothes, and bury him again.

“My, what a strapping man you are. Harry must have his hands full with you.”

Harry chokes on his tea. Unfortunately, it doesn’t kill him.

_“Oh god, make her stop Merlin. I’m going to give away my position from laughing so hard. Fucking _aces_.”_

Ms. Bennett, who must not see the murder in his eyes, removes her offending hand back to his arm, petting it in a more suggestive manner than a woman her age should ever do.

“Now, tell me Hamish, such a regal name even if it is Scottish…”

Harry can wait, Ms. Bennet just moved up to the top of Merlin’s list.

“… what is that you do?”

“I work in the technology field.”

“How exciting,” she says. Her hand disappears from his arm. Merlin tries to move away fast enough.

He fails.

He feels another sharp pinch, right over the first spot. The woman has aim, he has to give her that.

“And what do you do in the technology field? Fix computers?”

“No, madam. I use them to find people.”

“How admirable,” she exclaims, “helping to find missing people.”

“The ones I’m looking for aren’t missing, though they are after I find them.”

Her hand is still rubbing his arse as if to soothe the fucking bruise he knows is there.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she says, her face pinched together.

“I use my computer to find people, and when I find them, I make sure no one ever finds them again.”

He sees Harry’s eyebrows reach his hairline.

“If you excuse me for a moment, ladies. I must attend to my friend Hamish over there.”

Harry disengages himself.

He isn’t fast enough.

“Now, madam, if you don’t remove your hand from my arse _this very moment_ I will make sure I find _you_ next.”

“My goodness!”

Ms. Bennett removes her hand, quick enough that one would think his hot arse, which is extremely hot if he says so himself, is on fire.

Now there's something that would’ve livened this party up.

Ms. Bennett marches over to Harry and slaps him across the face. “I never, Mr. Hart, never. I have come to this farce of a party for two years now, and both years you have invited thugs to your party, thugs. I assure you I will not be back if this is the company you intend to keep.”

The room is silent until she marches out the door and then erupts into hushed, and not so hushed, whispers.

_“You are the fucking _guv_, Merlin. This is best moment of my life.”_

Harry walks over to Merlin. “I will make you regret this, Merlin. I’ll wait until you have forgotten, til you think it will not happen, then I will strike and _end_ you.”

“I invite you to try,” Merlin says, taking a sip of his tea, a pinky in the air.

—————

After the last guest leaves Harry calls his cleaning service and announces his plans to spend the night in the manor so he can be there when Eggsy returns tomorrow.

As Merlin says, the timeline was specific.

Merlin plans to make sure Eggsy’s next mission specific as well. He has one that calls for a deft hand, a really down and dirty mission guaranteed he’ll enjoy.By he, he means himself. A mission cleaning outdoor loos at a music festival while searching for a drug and arms trafficker using the festival as cover.

A drug lord that doesn’t exist, but that’s beside the point.

“Before we leave, we should have that drink you’ve been dying for, as much as you don’t deserve it for ruining my party,” Harry says as he unlocks the cabinet.

“I couldn’t agree more. And quit your fussing, I didn't ruin it, the whole street will feed off that gossip for months. Next year you’ll have double the people asking for a golden ticket.” Merlin turns thoughtful. “In fact, invite Alistair next year. Introduce him to our lovely Ms. Bennett.”

“Christ no, he might actually kill her.”

“I’ll give him anything he asks for if he does.”

Harry tries to glare at him but the corner of his mouth keeps curling, ruining the effect. He pulls out an expensive decanter, no doubt filled with even more expensive whiskey. Harry doesn’t skimp when it comes to the finer things.

Harry pours two tumblers, three fingers in each, and hands one to Merlin.

Who doesn’t take it.

Who instead takes the decanter from the top of the cabinet, downs a third of it in one go — _fucking hell, Merlin, who knew you could swallow like that?_ — then grabs another expensive bottle, still full, from inside.

Who turns his back and walks out the fucking door.

“That is 800 pound whiskey, Hamish,” Harry calls after him, horrified, “_each_.”

“I know,” Merin replies as he goes through the door. “You might get the decanter back when I can feel my left fucking arse cheek again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2 hours and edited in much less. Let me know if I missed something.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required. 
> 
> Come see me on [tumblr](http://violyntfemme.tumblr.com).


End file.
